Poker
by Puzzle Pieced
Summary: The Headmistress of Hogwarts and her younger wife are known to play a game or two of chess in the evenings, if possible given their respective busy schedules and after-work tasks. One night, they opt for something a bit more daring, something foreign, that seems to affect them both in new ways.


**Poke****r**

Minerva's face remained perfectly stoic as her long, thin fingers reached for the top of the small pile of red casino cards currently occupying the center of the desk space between where she and her wife were seated. Carefully, she removed the top two from the deck and added them to her hand, replacing the two that she had previously discarded. A small twitch at the corner of her mouth was the only indication she had, indeed, received a lucky draw. Hermione, noticing the minute change in the older woman's facial expression, narrowed one eye as she laid her five cards down upon the surface, hoping that her single pair of threes could overcome the odds and win her the round. Widening her eyes once more to look at her wife, expectantly, the younger witch watched as elegant hands moved to reveal two pairs – more precisely, sevens and aces. Emerald eyes shimmered as smaller hands slowly pulled down the thin straps of a black lace bra and reached back to undo it, causing it to come loose and slide free.

"Enjoying yourself?" Hermione queried, her eyebrow quirked and lips pulled tightly to the side.

"Quite."

The younger Gryffindor was not at all surprised by this succinct response, shaking her head slightly while reaching for her glass of rose moscato before lifting it gracefully from the desk. Raising it to her lips slowly, all the while never letting her eyes avert from the Headmistress, the woman took a small sip. Hermione had been the one to suggest the pair do something different from their usual routine tonight, something _daring._

Minerva and her wife were known to play a game or two of chess in the evenings before retiring to bed if they managed to finish their respective tasks in a timely manner. As it was Friday night, both women had decided that fussing over their responsibilities could be postponed until the morning and that, since it had become more and more difficult to find time to really be together amidst their hectic schedules, the evening could be better shared. Hermione had waited patiently by the desk, opposite Minerva, while she finished sending responses to the last of her owls. Watching as her wife penned the final sentences, she had wondered if the older woman knew of the game of poker. Without halting her quill on the piece of parchment or lifting her gaze for even a moment, the Headmistress of Hogwarts had responded that she had learned to play the game when she was very young, like chess, though she never did enjoy it due to the game's base on luck and chance rather than strategy or tactic.

In light of her wife's response, Hermione had, then, coyishly asked whether she had ever participated in a game of strip poker. Hearing the playfulness and slight hint of desire in the younger woman's voice had, finally, caused Minerva's quill to falter while looking up with raised brows before responding that no, she had never played strip poker, despite the fact that she had participated in a fair few similar games in her youth. When the elder of the two women returned the question, a light blush had then begun to creep across Hermione's cheeks. Head shaking, the younger had admitted that she hadn't but was still very interested in trying it.

"You definitely do seem pleased, ridding me of my clothes so easily as you sit there, still nearly fully dressed."

"That's quite the exaggeration there, my dear," Minerva rebutted. "You have managed to strip me down to my under-robe as well. I have shed a fair few articles of my own clothing, throughout the course of our game, and if I remember correctly, I was wearing significantly more than you to begin with. I'm accustomed to wearing several additional layers of clothing despite weather or situation as a consequence of the time period in which I was raised. In those days, removing your outer-robe, aside from in your own bed chambers, was entirely unheard of."

Plucking at the thin elastic band that stretched tightly across her hips, Hermione added, "Whether it be an exaggeration or not, you've reduced my clothing to a pair of skimpy black knickers."

"You are the one that has continually chosen to wear nearly non-existent undergarments on a daily basis. Though, I must admit, your wife does not mind that fact. She particularly does enjoy it, or so I hear, when she is the one allowed to remove those at the end of the evening, just before you join her in bed, entirely bare."

A sly smile came across Hermione's face, widening as her thoughts grew increasingly naughty. The woman rose from her chair, offering Minerva a full view of her now exposed chest. She reveled in the sight of those shimmering green eyes roving over her breasts and taut coral nipples, past her trim stomach and then down her lengthy, white legs before finally lifting to meet her hazel eyes again. The woman loved to know that she was wanted; she loved recognizing the hunger in the way that her wife looked at her and in the way a pale pink tongue darted from her mouth to wet rose colored lips.

Slowly placing one leg before the other, sauntering seductively, the younger Gryffindor then made her way to the other side of the desk and crossed the distance between them. Standing right before the Headmistress, she was just close enough to notice the nearly imperceptible blush on her cheeks. Minerva was a private woman; she kept personal and professional business clearly separated at all costs with what seemed like an impossible ease. Hermione, however, knew the woman beyond the venerable exterior – the woman that had an impish streak and was not afraid to express herself quite unabashedly on a myriad of topics that others would often be wary of broaching. She was particularly audacious after having a few glasses of wine. The two women had shared more than a fair few this evening, and Hermione herself could not deny the effects that the liquor had had on her own inhibitions.

The woman calmly extended her hand then, waiting but a fraction of a second for Minerva to take it before pulling her up from the desk chair. Making way to the spiraling stairs, she dragged her wife after her to their large shared bedroom in the Headmistress' Tower. She could feel the wet lace material of her underwear scratching uncomfortably against her inner thighs and the most intimate spot between her legs. Nonetheless, the friction only served to increase her arousal.

As they entered the bedroom, a tangible surge of some nonverbal wandless magic immediately caused the door to fall shut behind them. Hermione grinned wickedly as she placed her hands on her wife's slender hips and leaned in to kiss her with the now unrestrained passion and lust that had been building within her throughout the duration of the day, most especially during the course of their game. Her warm lips slid against Minerva's fast and hard, illustrating to the woman just how much she was really wanted by the younger witch. Obediently, she parted her lips to allow her wife to press her tongue into her mouth and slide it eagerly against her own. Hermione, however, regardless of how fast she took advantage of the access that she had been given, had other plans.

Minerva felt the side of the bed press against the back of her legs only a split second before Hermione pushed her down on it a bit roughly. The younger woman then dropped to her knees before her, hands finding Minerva's ankles before sliding up slowly, taking the under-robe with them with ease. Her lips trailed small and soft kisses along the inside of her right leg as she exposed the creamy white skin. When she reached the older woman's knees and the under-robe refused to continue to go higher, she looked up at the raven-haired, emerald-eyed witch coquettishly, licking her pink lips. Though Minerva always did prefer to pleasure her wife first, as her eyes connected with the now smoldering hazel, she felt herself giving in to the woman's unmistakable desires.

Hermione zealously accepted the silent permission that was offered to her by her wife's lack of action to reverse their roles, sliding her small hands to the back of Minerva's knees and pulling her to the precipice of the bed, eagerly spreading her legs wider as she did, causing Minerva to lose her balance and her back to fall against the soft mattress. The young woman instinctively wet her lips at the sight of the damp patch visible in Minerva's tartan patterned underwear and could not help but to lean down and press her nose to the material. Taking in the heady scent of her wife's arousal, if possible, only served to increase her already overwhelming desire.

Whispered incantations when she pulled away banished unwanted material, exposing Minerva's most intimate region to her senses. The sight of the woman, bare and glistening with wetness, the more poignant smell filling the air surrounding them… Hermione needed to taste her now, and so she did. Leaning down once more, she delicately ran her warm tongue up and over Minerva's folds, causing a small but audible moan to erupt from the Headmistress. The young Gryffindor loved being able to reduce the naturally stoic and regal woman to a rather chaotic disarray of needy sounds. Savoring the taste of her wife's arousal, Hermione moved her lips to Minerva's inner thigh, leaving shorter, feather-light kisses there while lifting a long leg over her shoulder. She continued to kiss along the skin, occasionally biting, digging her teeth in slightly deeper each time as the other leg followed suit.

"Baby…" she heard Minerva groan low in her throat as she only continued to kiss, bite, and suck, slowly and tormentingly.

Tonight, Hermione wouldn't make Minerva wait. Quickly moving along the path to the apex of her wife's legs, she slid her tongue along Minerva's folds, up from her entrance and halting at the small button, circling it very slowly to elicit a range of soft moans. The younger woman continued her ministrations, lapping hungrily at that small spot that gave her lioness the most pleasure. Hearing the increase in tempo of the pants now falling from her wife's lips, Hermione realized that Minerva was close, very close. She was pleased at the evidence that the little game of strip poker had affected the other woman as much as it had her. Encircling Minerva's tender bundle of nerves next then, she slid two fingers deep inside the woman's warmth, letting them be enveloped entirely by the warm wetness. She felt Minerva's muscles ripple against her extremities, urging her even deeper. Far too eager for her teasingly torturous inner nature, she let go of her propensity to help her wife to the edge only to repeatedly pull her back again. Hermione immediately set a fast pace as she let her fingers slide back and forth inside of Minerva, her tongue joining upon that small spot and flicking across it, just as she knew the Headmistress craved.

Hermione felt that she wouldn't survive if Minerva chose to be cruel to her tonight and torture her into waiting for her own release once she began, and her current actions were only contributing to that certainty. Taking her wife this way only increased her arousal, causing the material scratching between her legs to grow ever more soaked.

Minerva's cries, varying in volume and pitch, lead Hermione's eager movements. As expected, it was not long before the older woman arched up and repeatedly called Hermione's name as she climaxed, her inner walls tightening firmly. Feeling even more liquid warmth rush over her fingers, she pulled them back and lowered her mouth to her wife's entrance to press her tongue into the depths her fingers had occupied before. Minerva's cum tasted significantly sweeter than her arousal, Hermione mused, which was likely why she always so enjoyed lapping up every drop offered to her once her wife had come.

Having had her fill, she raised her head and wiped her mouth and chin with the back of her hand. She sat up between the Headmistress' legs with an obviously satisfied smile, particularly at seeing the haze upon heavy-lidded eyes in their post-climactic bliss. Unfortunately, she couldn't allow the other woman time to recuperate. Hermione, too, had a growing need; she wanted Minerva too much to waste even a single second. Quickly climbing atop her, she moved to straddle her wife, banishing the rest of their clothing while leaning down to capture her wife's lips with her own, allowing the woman a small taste of herself.

Deepening their kiss, Hermione blindly reached for the Headmistress' hand that had previously been clamped feverishly upon the sheet. She momentarily released her swollen lips to kiss the palm of the found hand, then guided it slowly down between their bodies. As it reached its destination, she threw her head back in delight, eyes falling shut and missing the look of surprise in Minerva's eyes at just how very wet her wife was for her.

Minerva could not remember a time when the woman sitting astride her had ever been so wet. One, two, three fingers slid inside easily at Hermione's pleas. A high-pitched moan resounded through the large room as Minerva placed her thumb directly over Hermione's bundle of nerves and the younger Gryffindor began to ride her wife's long and slender fingers, reveling in how deeply they penetrated her. With every thrust, Minerva became more and more aware of how easily those three fingers slipped back and forth into Hermione's core. Instinctively, she placed a fourth finger next to her wife's entrance, moaning herself as it, too, became engulfed in the woman's depths the next time she pushed her hips down and against her, a loud groan coming from deep in the younger Gryffindor's throat confirming that she had filled her wife entirely.

Hermione didn't believe that she had ever felt so entirely full, so complete. It was a new and foreign yet intense feeling. Minerva's thumb tapping against her most sensitive spot and her fingers moving back and forth inside of her as she rode them, pushing herself down onto them over and over again, provided an overwhelming pleasure that she had never before experienced. Most times, their lovemaking was slow, soft, and gentle. Tonight, though, it was not, and she did not want for it to be. She wanted, needed Minerva to fuck her, to take her, to claim her. As Minerva moved her other hand to her breasts and pinched a nipple between her thumb and forefinger hard, Hermione could feel the swirling emotions of impending climax begin in her lower belly. The very intense heat, the way it made her thigh muscles tingle and quiver…

"Minerva!"

As her orgasm hit and washed over her, she felt the blood rush fast through her head, her ears filling with the sound. She rocked gently back and forth several more times as she slowly came down from her high. Her eyelids, which had shut in the midst of their lovemaking, fluttered open as she looked down upon her beloved wife. The woman, noticing how exhausted Hermione had become, extended her arms to hold her. Giving in to the exhaustion of her muscles, she laid down beside Minerva and snuggled into her arms. The younger woman pushed her nose into the older woman's neck as she adjusted her legs, one between Minerva's and one thrown over them. She couldn't possibly describe how incredibly safe, warm, and loved she felt in that moment. Throughout her entire life, she had never felt that way with any other, and somehow she was certain that she never would. Minerva was to her like the last missing piece of the perfect puzzle; she could only hope that they would remain forever puzzled together.

* * *

**Author's Note: Enjoy. Thoughts welcome.**


End file.
